Okay. Jeremy clearly wasn't about to start the conversation, so it was up to me to say something or risk losing my entire night's work to his nerve-induced appetite. “I'm sorry.” I managed, my eyes downcast at my task, focused on keeping the cream filling on its target.
“What for?”
“Are you serious?” I squeezed the pastry bag a little too tight, and it went oozing onto the counter as I stammered, “I mean, I assumed Eddie told you. David and I…”
I must have made a pathetic picture, because Jeremy immediately took pity on me by coming around the counter to wrap his arms around me. “Shush. I know what happened with David. I just don't know why you're sorry.”
“You're not mad at me?” I asked, needing to hear the actual words.
Jeremy sighed and stepped backward a bit so I could see his face. “If I live to be a hundred, I will never understand women. Why on earth do you think I'd be angry with you?”
“I hurt David.”
Jeremy and I both flinched at my simple answer, but he did not remove his hand from my arm.
“Yes. Yes, I imagine you did. But if he's hurt, it's only because you told him the truth. I respect that, and so will David.”
I gave him a hesitant smile before I returned to my baking. For the next few minutes we exchanged harmless small talk about the tropical storm brewing off Bermuda, the fishing lure he'd picked up and whether the Yankees' loss last night was enough to keep the Sox alive. The easy banter wasn't enough, though, to keep Jeremy from picking up on my unease.
“Is there something else on your mind, kiddo?”
I took a beat, trying to decide whether I should pretend I didn't hear him. Finally working up the nerve, I whispered, “I guess I was just scared.”
That caught Jeremy's attention. His head bobbed up from his plate, and his face suddenly became very stern. None of his kids were allowed to be frightened on his watch. “Who has you scared? Of what?”
“You, David and Eddie. You're all the family I have, and I thought I might have screwed it up. I won't be able to stand it if I lose you all.”
“Why would you lose us?” Jeremy was clearly puzzled now.
“Come on, Jeremy. David told me he needed to back out of my life for a while. That has to impact my relationship with you. David is your son. I know you love me, but I'm not your blood.”
Instead of the empathetic, gentle expression I was used to seeing, I was surprised when an emotion I didn't expect – was it anger? – shimmered briefly across Jeremy's features. “You just put that nonsense out of your head right now.”
“I was being silly, I know.” I gave a wan smile, trying to convince my uncle that I was sure of my place in the Thornton family. I must has failed, because he shoved the final piece of his second pastry in his mouth, placed the fork on the side of his plate and motioned for me to take the counter seat next to him.
“If that education of yours taught you anything, Sarah, I would have thought that you had figured out that blood is not a factor when it comes to being a member of a family.”
I pulled my chair closer, trying to draw from the larger man's strength. “I wish I felt differently, Jeremy. I hate knowing that I've been hurting David for such a long time.”
“Oh, Sarah.” The flash of anger was gone, as Jeremy's features instead expressed the pain of a man who would do anything to take away the hurt his child was feeling. “You stay right here next to your Uncle Jeremy while he tells you a little bedtime story.”
I smiled indulgently, leaned my elbow on the counter and asked, “Are you going to tell me a fairy tale about a beautiful princess to take my mind off my troubles?”
“You know I don't tell fairy tales.” Jeremy smiled, then after having thought about it further said, “Well, maybe I do, actually. You see, I'm going to tell you the story about how I fell in love with your Aunt Connie. Do you know where I met her?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I met Connie – her maiden name was LaChance – at the 1962 Policeman's Ball in Baltimore, Maryland. You know that your daddy and I were partners in Baltimore for a few years before we ended up in Portland, right?”
I nodded, remembering bits and pieces of how Jeremy and my father had met in Baltimore, worked together, and then somehow both transferred to Portland, Maine. Since my mom was born and raised here, I assumed she was somehow a key in their relocation, but I had never been told the exact chronology.
“Well, Connie was at the ball on the arm of another officer. Your daddy was her date that night.”
“Aunt Connie was out on a date with dad?” I exclaimed, mildly scandalized. “How did that happen?”
“The dance was their first date. She was a nurse on the pediatric ward of Baltimore General, and a friend of your dad's was a doctor there. He set it up.”
“So what happened? Did you glance at each other across the crowded room, fall into each other's arms and dance the night away?”
Jeremy smiled wistfully. “That would have been nice, but that's not quite what happened. You see, she and your father hit it off right from the start. I stole one dance with her when your father went to get us all some punch, but that was it.”
“What do you mean ‘that was it’?” I nudged at his arm. “When did you realize you were in love with her?”
“Oh, I knew instantly,” he responded. “One dance and I was a goner. But, you see, she was there with your father. He was just as crazy about her as I was, so I couldn't say anything.”
“For how long?”
Jeremy raised his chin and studied the ceiling as he thought about the answer. “I'd say the two of them ended up dating for nearly a year.”
“A year!”
“A little less, maybe.” Jeremy backtracked, surprised by my astonishment. “I'd tag along as often as I could just to be near her. The three of us were inseparable. Your daddy, God bless him, never complained, but I always felt like a third wheel.”
“Why didn't you say anything?” I demanded. Although I knew the end of the story – that my father would eventually meet and marry my mother – it was alarming to realize how things could have gone in a drastically different direction.
“I couldn't. Your father was my best friend, and he was in love with Connie, too. He was saving up to buy a ring, you know. Getting ready to pop the question.”
“My dad and Aunt Connie?” I had completely forgotten the food I was cooking, and was instead enthralled by the tale my uncle was weaving. “Jeremy, you are seriously freaking me out!”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“God, no!” I needed to hear this story out to its conclusion.
Jeremy nodded, seeming to understand. “One day there was a riot down on the waterfront. It was the early sixties, and Maryland had some particularly ugly times back then. So on this day – for some reason I remember it was a Thursday – two Baltimore officers were shot.
“As soon as the situation was contained, every spare cop in town turned up at the hospital to check on their condition. I'm still not sure exactly how it happened – I guess Connie heard that an officer was down, but didn't know who it was.”
“You're not sure exactly how what happened?” I prompted.
“Your father and I were in the waiting room of the emergency division when I looked down the corridor and saw Connie fly around the corner toward us. She had this enormous look of relief on her face as she saw your father and me standing there. She must have been terribly worried.” Jeremy broke off, lost in his memories.
“And?”
“Well, when Connie finally came running into the Emergency Room, she didn't have time to think about what she was doing. She ran past your father and fell into my arms, instead.”
Whoa.
I bit on my lip, experiencing a phantom pain on my father's behalf for a heartache that was now more than thirty years old.
“I swear I had no idea how she felt about me until I held her in my arms that day. She was horrified when she real
ized what she'd done. We talked to your father, explained that neither of us had meant for this to happen, and begged him to forgive us.”
“Obviously he did.” I responded, trying to get over my misplaced feeling of betrayal. Certainly if my father had forgiven the couple, there was no need for me to hold a grudge based on an event born five years before me.
“You know your father. He said he forgave us, but we could see the hurt that we'd caused. But, we were young and in love, and I'm ashamed to say it didn't mean as much to us as it should. Connie and I decided we'd already wasted enough time apart, and decided to marry within the month.”
“March 22.” I chimed, knowing the date of Jeremy's anniversary by heart. It was ironic that a date that had once promised such happiness was now circled on my calendar to remind me to pick up a memorial wreath on the way to the cemetery.
“Your father Edmund was my best man, of course. He was a true friend to stand beside me in church, then to make a toast at our reception.” Jeremy rose and went to the refrigerator to pour a second glass of milk. “You know, I thought I knew the meaning of courage, but I never really saw it until your father raised his glass to me and my new wife in a room full of our friends.”
“What happened? How did you all get past it and get to be friends again?” I hoped Jeremy's story ended with a life lesson that would give me hope for my future relationship with David.
“There was a point when I didn't think it was possible,” Jeremy admitted. “Connie and I got back from our honeymoon and your father was gone. He'd quit the force, and left me a note saying he couldn't be around us for a while. Asked us both to forgive him and said I shouldn't try to find him.”
I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, frustrated beyond all measure. “Why have I never heard this story before? I can't imagine Daddy running away from anything. Did you go find him? What happened?”
“I did the exact opposite of what he asked, of course. I contacted my friends in the police unions up and down the coast until I found out he had gotten a job in Portland, Maine. Once I knew he was safe, I did what he asked and waited. We didn't hear from him for more than two years.”
“Two years?”
“Yup. Two years later, the doorbell rang, and a man in a blue uniform handed me an envelope.” Jeremy pulled his cracked leather wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a faded piece of yellow paper. He unfolded it and handed it to me, pointing to the “Western Union” label on the top, and the date, September 23, 1966.
GETTING MARRIED SATURDAY STOP NEED A BEST MAN AND HIS BEST GIRL STOP MISS YOU BOTH STOP PLEASE COME
I ran my finger lovingly over the keepsake Jeremy had kept close to him for so many years. Touching the memento of my parents' history, the animosity I'd felt toward my father's best friend since this story had begun, vanished instantly.
“Long story short, we caught the next train to Portland and just never left. Connie and your mama got on like a house afire. Meanwhile, your daddy and I picked up where we left off without missing a beat.”
I handed the telegram back to Jeremy and watched him line up the creases perfectly to prevent more from appearing. “What happened to your lives in Baltimore?”
“Baltimore was just a place,” Jeremy shrugged. “Portland was a home. Connie had already quit her job when she found out she was expecting David. She was six months along when we came for the wedding, and before our return trip she started cramping. There were some complications, and she was told she shouldn't travel. Back in those days the Police unions were like big fraternities and made up of some good men. I got an emergency leave and transferred to Portland. Your daddy's partner stepped aside and we worked together like nothing had ever happened. The rest, as they say, is history.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I think I'm in shock.”
“I didn't mean to shock you, Sarah. I just wanted to explain that I truly believe people don't have the ability to choose who they love. Things would be very simple, and life would go a lot more smoothly if they could, but it just doesn't happen that way.”
Since his story had apparently rendered me mute, he continued, “Connie should have fallen in love with your father. He was smart, handsome, funny and a few years younger than his broken-down old partner. More than that, he was just crazy about her.”
“So were you,” I reminded him.
“That's true, but I never would have acted on it. Loving Connie was the hardest and most selfish thing I've ever done, before or since. Your father was able to understand that I didn't have a choice, and I don't know how, but he forgave us both.”
“Did my mother know this story?” I asked, wondering what she thought about my father's history with Aunt Connie.
“Your mother knew everything about everything, kiddo.” Jeremy winked at me. “And I know what you're really asking. Let me assure you that your mama had absolute faith in exactly three things: the love of her husband and child, her Irish heritage and God. In that order. I remember that Mandy used to say that the first person you loved earned a place in your heart, but the last person you loved earned a place in your soul.”
“What else did she say, Jeremy?” I said, eyes filling as they always did when I heard stories of my mother.
“Well, I remember how she used to slip me an extra piece of pie sometimes when Edmund wasn't looking. She said it was payment for stealing Connie away and giving your daddy the chance to find the woman he was meant to love all along.” My uncle walked behind me and took me in his arms. “All we can do now is sit back and hope the same miracle happens for David.”
“I want that more than anything,” I whispered.
“Me, too, kiddo. Me, too.”
September
I SCRAPED MY FORK around the inside of the cake pan, looking to consume the final remnants of frosting. It was funny how the same action had felt bitter and desperate only a year ago. Today, despite the fact I had turned the corner into true adulthood and was now the dreaded age of thirty, the only feeling I could readily put a finger on was that of contentment.
Sensing my contemplative mood, Livvie asked, “So, how are you doing with the big 3-0, anyway?”
“Believe it or not, I'm okay. Of course, a big party in my honor didn't exactly hurt.” I smiled, then admonished, “I told you not to make a fuss.”
“Eh. You didn't really mean it. Everyone wants a fuss made on their birthday.”
Livvie was probably right. As much as I had complained that I didn't want a party, there was nothing worse than having a birthday ignored outright. Besides, I couldn't pretend that I didn't feel a small rush of joy when I walked into the darkened diner only to have friends and family jump out and wish me a happy birthday.
Livvie – with help from her band of merry men – had done an amazing job transforming the space from a diner into a fall wonderland of twinkle lights, balloons, flowers and harvest decorations. I had no idea how Jeremy was going to get the place in shape for the morning crowd, but he, Eddie and Morgan had pushed me upstairs after the party was over and wouldn't even consider letting me help straighten up. Instead, Livvie had grabbed my leftover cake and presents and corralled me upstairs to keep out of the way of the cleaning crew.
“Maybe you're right and I did want a little bit of a fuss,” I admitted. “But you went above and beyond. It was almost perfect.”
I hoped my friend would take no offense at my statement that the event was slightly less than ideal. The place, atmosphere and music were spot on. It wasn't even the attendees that were a problem. Livvie had outdone herself on the invitation list and ensured that my birthday party found me surrounded by friends from high school, college and law school as well as our neighbors and regulars from the diner. To my delight, even Trenton had made a brief appearance. Despite this large group, though, there was a huge void in the room.
“I wish David had come,” I sighed, finally putting a voice to the mild melancholy I'd felt all night.
“I know, Sarah. I guess it was
still just a little soon for him”
I nodded, agreeing with the words, but failing to find much comfort in them.
“And don't forget, it's not like he blew off your birthday altogether.”
Livvie was right in that point. I had received the unexpected birthday gift of a phone call from my friend. It was the first contact we'd had since the breakdown in Jeremy's kitchen, and while the conversation had been more than a little strained, it was tangible proof that David Thornton was not completely out of my life.
“It's a start.” I agreed. Then trying to change the subject to something more pleasant, I remarked, “Hey, were you as surprised as I was that Frank actually showed up?”
“Are you kidding? Frank Murphy at a party? It must be some kind of sign of the apocalypse.”
“Thanks for inviting him.”
Livvie punched me lightly on the arm. “Only for you, Bennett. I want you to know how much it killed me to call that man and politely invite him to attend your party as my guest. I still shudder at the memory. I've got freaking PTSD on account of you.”
“Well, I do appreciate it. It meant a lot that he showed up, especially since he's still so pissed off with me.”
“Is he still blaming you for the fact Morgan quit the firm?” At my confirming nod, Livvie shook her head in disgust. “You said it was Morgan's dream to switch to public defense law. I mean, the fact you made partner just spurred him along. It's not like the only reason he quit was because he wanted to sexually harass his boss.”
“Thank you for that very classy summary.” I blushed furiously at the nugget of truth in Livvie's statement, remembering the day after my promotion when I had finally crawled out of my bed of depression over David, called Morgan and asked if we could meet for dinner. I had desperately needed some cheering up and hoped that the news of my partnership would be something he could help me celebrate. We met at my favorite burger place and found a booth tucked far in the back where we ordered beers and (with a slight nod to a certain purple suede skirt), I stuck to a vegetarian burger, no bun.
Next Year I'll be Perfect Page 22
